


An Excerpt from the Mind of Mr. Wiggums

by Trickster_Angel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Games, from Mr. Wiggum's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_Angel/pseuds/Trickster_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a cat to do in the Tower?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Excerpt from the Mind of Mr. Wiggums

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an assignment for my literature class. The prompt was to write from the perspective of an animal in the style of one of the stories we read. I drew inspiration from Heart of a Dog by Mikhail Bulgakov.  
> I was later encouraged to post this so wynnebat, here you go.

_They’re good to me_ , I think as I wander down the main hall. People are walking from all around. Some go to their rooms, others duck down abandoned corridors and steal a moment to themselves. The Templars are always watching, but they are certainly not omnipotent. Anyone can escape their notice if they’re clever enough. I’m especially good at that. I can move almost silently, unseen by all unless I want them to see me. But right now, I don’t care. Let them see me if they wish, for no one can stop me. Unless they want scratch marks on their face.

The inhabitants of the Circle certainly aren’t unkind. Some aren’t exactly my type, and clearly I am not theirs, but overall, I am content. What more can I wish for? I have a home, plenty of mice to chase, and kind humans who scratch my head in just the right place. I’m not the only cat in the Circle, but I think I am by far the most adored.

I want to find my human. I think he has a name, but I can’t remember it. But I remember how he scratches my ears in the just the right place. For some odd reason, sometimes people get upset when I wake them up to pet me, but he never does. I walk down to his room and scratch the door. Normally, he opens it immediately, and lets me walk inside. But today there is no reply. I sit down impatiently, and start to meow loudly. He’ll open the door. He’s probably busy with one thing or another.

A woman walks down the hallway, her face contorted in annoyance. She must have heard my cries. Surely, she can open the door so I can find my human.

“Stupid cat,” she mutters, “He’s not even here.” I hiss at her and she quickens her pace, hurrying away from me. We don’t get along and I never hope too. I don’t like that human.

But I want to find the nice human, the one who scratches my ears just right. It’s not the same when the other residents do it. If he isn’t here, then I know where he can be. Where he’s been before. I run down the hallway, avoiding the people passing by.

“Where’s he off to?” they ask but I don’t want to stop. I want to find my human. He probably wants me too.

At the entrance to the solitary cells, I scratch at the door, hoping my claws are strong enough to rip the door apart. They aren’t. I meow as I try to scratch my way through. It may take a little time, but I can get through.

A Templar comes by and notices my frenzy. He sighs and opens the door a little, just enough for me to get through. No time for pleasantries, I dash inside. Another Templar stands just inside the door. He is bored; his eyes are slowly closing. It’s better than he not notice me and I walked stealthily past.

I walk past the individual cells, each bare. I can’t tell where he is. I don’t hear him. Hopefully not at the very back. There are thick doors there, and I can’t get through. And no Templar will be kind enough to let me in.

I smell him before I see him. He’s only a little further down. I run towards him, my paws hitting the icy floor over and over. At the cell, he’s facing away from me, lying on his side as if he is asleep. I know he isn’t. Or if he is, he won’t be for long.

 _Meow_ , I call to him.

My human turns to look at me, a smile on his face. He looks thinner than the last time I saw him. His strawberry blond hair is all disheveled and I can see bruises on his pale face.

“Here kitty,” he whispers and I squeeze through the bars. Immediately, he starts to scratch that perfect spot behind my ears. I purr softly and rub up against him. He’s so cold.

“You’re good to me,” my human whispers as he pets me. He’s good to me too. And he doesn’t deserve to be here, alone, locked up in a cold cell.

If only there was something I could do for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been posting any stories. I have no excuse.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
